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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25626139">sucks to suck</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxiecodone/pseuds/oxiecodone'>oxiecodone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Depression, F/M, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Weed, breakdown - Freeform, poor dave i just keep beating him up lmao, that should b all lmk if i need to add anything else, the depression is only hinted at and the weed is only mentioned</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:40:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>980</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25626139</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxiecodone/pseuds/oxiecodone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>maternity pics are planned and dave is fucking dying inside<br/></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Egbert/Dave Strider, John Egbert/Roxy Lalonde</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>sucks to suck</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>breakdown starts and ends at ---</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>&gt;be the guy who hasn't showered in four days</p><p> </p><p>you’re startled awake by your phone ringing. you scratch at your stubble and fix your shades on your face as you reply. “uh- hello?”</p><p> </p><p>“hey dave! how’ve you been?” you hear a bright voice ask. you blink and sit back in your office chair, wiping the drool from your face and frowning from the aches in your back.</p><p> </p><p>“who is this?” you ask back. you feel dizzy, and swallow down the nausea in your throat before sliding away the photos you fell asleep on top of.</p><p> </p><p>you hear a bright laugh, “dave, you dummy! its me, john!” </p><p> </p><p>you stand, ignoring the static you get in your vision and clear your throat before responding, “ohh nice. hey john, what do you need?”</p><p> </p><p>you can almost hear him pout through the phone as he replies in a whiny voice, “daaaaaave, c’mon, can’t i just call you and see what's up?”</p><p> </p><p>you start making your way towards your kitchen and snort, “john, you never call me unless you need a favor. if you just wanted to check in you'd text me. we’ve been best friends for seven years, do you really expect me not to pick up on that?”</p><p> </p><p>there's a loud, over dramatic sigh in your ear and john responds, “well shoot, you got me there... i do need a favor.”</p><p> </p><p>you float to your fridge and root around for something to eat, moving your phone to your shoulder so you can press it against your ear, “sure bro, what-<em>shit</em>- do you need?” you say, cursing as you catch a glass bottle of sriracha before it can hit the bottom of the fridge.</p><p> </p><p>“i just need you to take some pictures for me.”</p><p> </p><p>you snort, “what bro, need some professionally shot nudes? is your shitty android camera just not doing it for you anymore?”</p><p> </p><p>john huffs and you laugh as he responds, “shut up dave! my camera is not that bad!”</p><p> </p><p>you snag a half empty jelly jar and decide on a pb and j since your fridge is emptier than mor shapiros cooch. “yeah it kind of is dude. last time you sent me a video of you playing piano, i had to ask dirk to ultra-enhance it just so i could figure out what the fuck was going on.”</p><p> </p><p>john groans and mutters a couple objections before taking a deep breath and responding properly, “that's not what i called for! i need you to take pictures becaaaaause…” you can hear a faint tapping as he does a little drumroll, probably against his desk, “roxy’s pregnant!” </p><p> </p><p>your heart drops into your stomach, and then your stomach does a triple flip, and then you accidentally drop the jelly jar. shit. you stare longingly at the mess of sugary grapes and glass. you guess you’ll be having a pb. you think about cleaning it up, then decide to leave it for future you to take care of. </p><p> </p><p>“-ave, dave? hellooo you still there? what was that noise?” you jump at john's anxious voice coming through your phone. that you dropped on the floor. </p><p> </p><p>screendown. <em>shit</em>. </p><p> </p><p>you sloooowwwwwwly bend down and just as slowly lift it up, breathing a sigh of relief when you see the screen is still intact. you can hear john’s little shouts get closer together and realize that he’s probably worried about you. you quickly press the phone between your ear and shoulder again, and let john know that you’re fine, you just dropped a jar. you hear him let out a quick sigh and you retrieve the peanut butter and bread from the top of the fridge while he berates you for being clumsy.</p><p> </p><p>“guess bro’s training wasn't as effective as he thought, eh?” you say, smirking a bit at the end. john sucks in a quick breath and you barely miss a beat, quickly adding on to your sentence, “so, when do you want these taken?” you turn, grabbing a butter knife from the drawer- cringing as it scrapes against the other utensils- and make a mental note of when and where you need to go as john rattles on and on, going off on a couple of tangents. you let him ramble and assemble your sandwich, walking over to your couch and flopping down on it. </p><p> </p><p>you finish up the phone call (and your sandwich) with some catching up, which mostly consists of you telling white lies, and john rambling. every time he mentions roxy you feel jealousy, followed by a pang of guilt deep in your gut and you hate it. after you hang up, you put the time and place for the shoot in your reminders and sit for a second, completely calm.</p><p>---</p><p>then you throw your phone against the wall and grab your head in your hands. you pull at your hair, and it <em> hurts </em> , but you need to get it out somehow. you knew it was over the moment john asked roxy out and she said yes, you knew it when they celebrated their six month anniversary, you knew it when you watched john slip that <em> fucking </em> ring on her <em> fucking </em> finger, the ring that <em> you </em> helped him pick out because you’re nice like that, you’re his <em> best fucking friend </em> , and you’re so frustrated and you hate it, you hate how this makes you feel, you hate how john makes you feel- wait. stop. you don’t hate how john makes you feel, not really, you just hate how you feel knowing that you can’t have him, that you’ll never be able to have him, he’s out of your reach, he’s gone, he’s <em> not </em> gone, he’s <em> right fucking </em>there, but you can’t have him, not in a way that matters.</p><p>---</p><p>you’re so tired of feeling like this. you’re so tired of feeling. you pull at your hair again and sigh.</p><p> </p><p>you need a joint.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>SORRY FOR THE SHITTY TITLE its currently 2:33am and i just finished this... i proofread it a couple times but lmk if i missed anything mk byeeee //edit: just went back and edited, this shit was a messssss. hope its better now</p></blockquote></div></div>
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